Highland Thirst (23 page)

He
felt his soul cringe at the memory of her expression. It had been a sharp
contrast to the soft reminiscing and husky laughter she’d shared with him
through the night and had made him feel, for the first time in his life, like
the monster his people were whispered to be.

Tearlach
had lost a lot of blood during the torture and had any of the men got close to
him on the way back into this chamber, he’d have taken a chunk out of them
without regret. However, Lucy had been another matter. He’d had little
difficulty refusing the offer of blood when Carbonnel had merely shoved the
woman up close to him, but once he’d cut her and Tearlach had seen the blood
bubble to the surface of her skin, smelled the tinny scent, his hunger had been
all consuming. Had Lucy not gasped and drawn his gaze to her horrified
expression, he might very well have latched onto her wrist and—

“Tearlach?
Are you awake?”

He
almost ignored the soft question until his muddled mind realized that the sound
had come much closer than from across the chamber and that he could actually
feel her soft breath on his cheek. Blinking his eyes open, Tearlach stared down
in amazement at the petite blonde now standing before him, concern on her face
as she peered up at him. “What? How...?”

Lucy
grinned at his astonishment. “Do you not remember my telling you about those
games my brother and I used to play in our own dungeon?”

“Aye,”
he said faintly as she moved to his hand and began to poke a bit of metal into
the lock and twiddle it about. “Ye played prisoner, but yer brother always got
free.”

“Aye,”
she murmured, her voice distracted as she worked at the lock. “We stopped
playing once I too knew how to work the locks. It was no longer any fun.”

Tearlach
watched her with bewilderment. Just moments ago, she hadn’t seemed willing to
even speak to him, yet now she was working at unlocking him. He’d barely had
the thought when he recalled that while she’d been merely grunting or ignoring
his earlier comments and questions, she’d also been shimmying about slightly in
her chains, straining against them. At the time he’d paid it little attention,
thinking it a waste of time anyway. Now, however, he realized she must have
been distracted trying to free herself. She hadn’t been ignoring him at all, at
least not because she no longer wanted anything to do with him. She’d hardly be
unlocking him now if she thought him a monster.

“Why
didn’t ye tell me ye were tryin’ to unlock yerself?” he asked with
exasperation.

“I
did not wish to get your hopes up in case I could not get us free,” Lucy
admitted and then released a pleased little sigh as the first of his chains
clicked open under her efforts.

Tearlach
watched her set to work on the second chain on the same wrist, a small frown
claiming his lips as he wondered if he’d have the strength to hold the wrist up
once the chain was gone. He’d lost so much blood and was so weak he wasn’t at
all sure he would. In fact, he was rather certain that he wouldn’t be able to
stand without the chains to hold him up. Escape would be impossible whether he
was unbound or not, he realized with dismay.

“Why
did ye no’ do this last night or the one before?” Tearlach asked with
frustration. He’d still been strong and capable then. He could have got them
out of there if she’d done this before the torture. After losing so much blood
and strength, however, he wasn’t at all sure he’d be anything but a burden to
her now.

“I
needed something to work the locks with,” she said, her breath soft and warm
against his arm. “I slid this bit of metal from the guard’s pocket when he
unchained me. You did not really think I meant it when I said mayhap to whether
I was now willing to marry Wymon, did you?”

Tearlach
grimaced at the question. He
had
actually believed it. After his
suffering he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d said yes on the spot to
avoid any similar torture herself. He didn’t say as much now, however, but
merely asked, “What is the bit of metal ye’re using?”

“I
am not sure,” she admitted, pausing to pull it from the second lock and peer at
it. “It looks like part of a broken pendant or some such thing. Whatever it is,
we are lucky he had it on him.”

Lucy
returned to working on the lock and Tearlach watched her with a combination of
admiration and regret. He had known she was courageous from the way she’d set aside
her grief the night they were taken and set out to keep both their minds off
the coming torture by telling him tales of her childhood. The tales she’d told
had revealed a good deal of her character, and her ability to laugh at some of
her memories despite their grim circumstance had told him more. He already knew
she was strong, smart, and light-hearted by nature...and she apparently didn’t
think he was a monster after all, for surely she wouldn’t be trying to free him
were she afraid of, or repulsed by, him?

“Stop,”
Tearlach whispered and it was the hardest word he thought he’d ever had to say.

Lucy
didn’t seem to hear him but continued to work at the lock another moment before
releasing a relieved breath as this lock too clicked open.

“Stop,”
Tearlach repeated as his arm dropped to sag at his side.

Lucy
paused and glanced at him with confusion. “What?”

“Stop.
Ye’re wasting precious time,” he said quietly.

“I
am working as quickly as I can,” she said apologetically and he realized she
thought he was criticizing her efforts.

“Nay.
I do not mean—” He stopped to take a breath, only to let it out on a sigh
before saying, “Ye waste yer time with me, Lucy. I am too weak to make it out o’
here with ye. I shall just slow ye down and get ye caught. Ye’re better
slipping out o’ here on yer own.”

She
started to shake her head at once, and he quickly added, “Ye can send back
help. Send a message to me people telling them where I am and they will come
free me.”

Lucy
snorted at the very suggestion as she went to work on the chain at his neck. “Oh,
aye, and by the time your people got here, you would be long dead from
Carbonnel’s tortures. I think not, my lord. I could do naught to save my
brother from Wymon, but I will not leave you here to die at his hands too.”

“Carbonnel
will no’ kill me. He wants information and needs me alive tae get it,” Tearlach
said quietly and then added, “Lucy, I do no’ think I can even stand let alone
walk, and ye surely have no’ the strength tae carry me oot o’ here.”

“We
will deal with that once I have freed you,” she insisted firmly. “I have a
plan.”

“What
plan?” he asked with interest and even some hope.

Lucy
did not answer, but merely smiled with satisfaction as the lock at his neck
snapped open. “I am getting better. I have not used these skills in so long
they had grown rusty, but I am picking them back up quickly.”

He
smiled faintly at her pleasure, but repeated, “What plan?”

“I
shall explain shortly, sir. Please be quiet now, I need to concentrate.”

Tearlach
opened his mouth to insist, but then let the question die on his lips as she
knelt to work at the chain at his waist. The pose was very suggestive. At least
to his mind as he stared down at the top of her head and watched her hands
raise to his waist. He watched her test the tension of the chain. Seeming to
realize it was helping him stay upright, instead of unlocking it, she left it
for now and turned her attention to the chains on his feet instead.

Tearlach
began to breathe again once her attention moved to that area, but left her to
concentrate on her work rather than persist in questioning her. His own
attention turned to watching the play of torch light on her hair. He had noted
on first spotting her in the inn that she was a pretty woman, something he’d
noted again on first awaking here in the dungeon, but in the time that had
passed since then somehow that prettiness had turned to beauty in his eyes. The
big eyes that had merely caught his attention had come to fascinate him as he
watched the play of intelligence that ran through them and the emotions they
spoke of. Her eyes were expressive, lightening with laughter, darkening with
grief, sparkling with secret amusement, clouding with thought.

And
her mouth, which might seem perfectly normal on first glance, stretched into
sheer beauty with her smiles and laughter. But it was her spirit that attracted
him most. She had seemed ready to cave in to grief after Wymon had left them
the first night, but then had rallied. She was an exceptional woman, and he was
grateful that if he had to be captured and chained to a wall, that it was she
with whom he was captured and chained up.

“There.”
Finished freeing his feet, Lucy straightened and cast one of her glowing smiles
his way as she shifted to set to work on the chains at his second wrist. “We
shall be out of here in a trice.”

Tearlach
smiled faintly at her assurance and then inhaled deeply as the scent of blood
struck his nose. She was working on his left wrist now, her own left arm
closest to his face and the scent of blood still weeping slowly from her wound
was strong and intoxicating. Tearlach’s abused and weakened body clenched
instinctively at the scent of what he needed to help heal and regain his
strength.

Closing
his eyes, he forced himself to remain in place when what he truly wanted to do
was bend his head just those few inches necessary to run his tongue hungrily up
her arm, licking away the blood now being wasted.

“Tearlach?”

Her
concerned voice forced his eyes open and he found her standing before him,
concern on her face as she peered at him.

“I
am going to do the one at your waist now,” she said quietly and he realized his
second arm was now free and hung limply at his side like his first.

“Are
you all right?” she asked with a frown. “You look pained.”

Unwilling
to explain what it was exactly that was paining him and what he wanted to do,
Tearlach merely nodded.

Her
expression remained uncertain and concerned, but Lucy took him at his word and
once again bent to his waist.

Tearlach
closed his eyes on the image of her knelt before his groin and simply waited.
He knew the moment the chain snapped free. He tried to stay upright, but it was
impossible. The moment the chain no longer held his weight, Tearlach buckled
and slid down the wall to his knees. Lucy tried to catch him and help him
remain upright, but he was too heavy for her and they ended up facing each
other on their knees.

“Are
you all right?” she asked with concern, keeping him from collapsing against her
by pressing her hands to his chest.

Tearlach
moaned, his teeth actually aching with the need for blood. Fighting the urge to
pounce on this precious woman, he growled, “What is yer plan tae get us both
oot o’ here?”

When
Lucy was silent for a moment, Tearlach forced himself to straighten as much as
he could, then leaned back against the wall so that he could see her. Lucy was
worrying at her upper lip with her teeth as she watched him. For a moment, he
thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she held her arm up, offering him the
wrist Wymon had cut. “Feed. Regain your strength and let us get out of here.”

Tearlach
almost pounced on the offering, but then his mind kicked in and made him pause.
The amount of blood he would need to regain his strength and heal was more than
she could give up without growing weak herself. Gritting his teeth, he shook
his head. “Nay. Go. Escape and get word tae me clan. They shall fetch me.”

“There
shall be nothing to fetch,” she said sharply. “Wymon shall be furious when he
finds I have escaped and most likely beat you to death in his fury.”

Tearlach
didn’t argue the point. He suspected she was right. While the man was supposed
to torture information from him, Wymon did not seem the sort to enjoy being
bested and would not take the escape of one of his prisoners well at all. In
his temper and pique he might very well kill him. Sighing, Tearlach shook his
head and then let his head drop wearily. “It doesnae matter, so long as you
escape.”

Rather
than appreciate his sacrifice, Lucy snorted. “Oh, do not be a fool. I shall not
escape alone.” Catching him by the chin she lifted his head, stared him in the
eye, and said firmly, “I need you.”

Tearlach
stared at her with sudden understanding. This of course explained all. The
horror he’d seen on her face had been real. She did think him a monster, but
she’d deal with the devil himself to get out of there. It wasn’t trust and like
that had moved her to take him with her, but need. Despite having known her
only a matter of days, for some reason that was a bitter drink for Tearlach to
swallow, it roused a rage in him that almost had him tearing out her throat
with his need. But something in his face must have spoke of the emotions
roiling in him, for fear suddenly rose in Lucy’s eyes and she trembled against
him. Fear on that face was enough to help him rein in his emotions and allow
his mind to function again.

Of
course she was afraid. No doubt all she knew of his kind were the rumors that
claimed they were soul stealers and bloodsuckers. Who would not fear him? But
Tearlach didn’t want her to fear him, he wanted to reassure her and let her see
what he was truly like, that his need for blood was just a part of him. That he
didn’t steal souls or attack unsuspecting travelers or any of the other things
mortals claimed about his kind.